


the run and go

by jaylocked



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Tumblr Prompt, all the high school fic tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-08-28 05:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8432866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaylocked/pseuds/jaylocked
Summary: Every day that Neil has stuck around in California has been one day too many.(or: when Neil can't let his mom go, he finds himself attending his senior year of high school in Oakland, where he meets an Exy goalkeeping prodigy who just doesn't get it.)





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> title from song by twenty one pilots song of the same name.
> 
> originally posted on tumblr. written for the prompt: "Ok now I'm super excited :)my hs au prompt included: smoking behind the gym (or smwhere idk I've never done it), being partners for a project, studying in a library, one late night adventure..But the same problems and past they have in canon.."
> 
> warnings for similar events to canon backstories, but nothing is really spelled out super explicitly? this toes the line of canon divergence/straight up AU

Every day that Neil has stuck around in California has been one day too many.

It was too much, in those first few days, to think about leaving behind the memory of his mom and that last, desperate night. He made it to San Francisco, tracked down a family contact, and then took random buses until he stumbled into a seedy motel in Oakland.

But then…he had no fucking idea of what to do next, did he?

So one day in the motel turned into two, and then suddenly the summer had come and gone with Neil floating through the motels and cheap hotels of the Bay Area. He doesn’t like using as much cash as he has, but he hasn’t figured out a better option, not yet.

When late August descends, he looks back at the paperwork he’d had thrust at him back in those hazy days at the beginning and finds a forged transcript.

Oakland seems as good a place as any to settle down. Traveling with his mom hadn’t been easy, of course not, but it didn’t raise many questions. His paperwork may say he’s almost 18, about to be a senior in high school, and that doesn’t make many car rentals keen on lending him a car. He could take a bus, sure, but where to?

A medium-sized city adjacent to more interesting places. He could get behind that.

So he finds the school closest to his forged address, heads in alone to the office, pretends his parents couldn’t come in but he’d brought everything he needed. He remembers this from watching his mom do it, when she thought they could last a little while in a new place.

The key is to be confident, to act like anybody questioning his behavior is absurd, but to be reserved in that confidence. To let them all think he’s capable but not notable.

Neil thinks he pulls it off.

* * *

Palmetto High is nothing new, nothing that makes any real impression.

Neil had found an empty house nearby that he thinks he’ll be able to squat in for a while. It’s just a few blocks away from where the gentrification has ended, not too dangerous, but not obviously about to be developed for some Silicon Valley hipsters to flip.

Neil’s first few days are boring, honestly. He’s waiting for himself to make a wrong move, to raise everybody’s suspicions, but everybody moves on when they realize he’s not trying to make friends.

The house he breaks into every night is just creaky enough for Neil to sleep comfortably with the knowledge that the slightest disturbance to his uneasy peace will wake him up.

* * *

Neil never stops looking over his shoulder. His mom has been dead for almost six months, and each day she seems less and less real. What did he ever think he knew about her?

School, at least, provides a distraction. He likes his pre-calc class, even if his partner never stops talking to him.

He wonders if he could join the cross country team. He’s always stayed in shape, runs even through his sketchy neighborhood at night, and would kill for something to break up the monotony. He looks longingly towards the Exy court he passes by on his way out to the field where practice takes place, but his mom’s words are too fresh in his memory.

Playing Exy again would be like spitting on her memory. It would be asking to be noticed.

The cross country team, it turns out, would love to have him. He starts staying after school for practice, learns the names of a few of the guys on the team. He likes that it’s a solitary activity, that his heavy breathing can count as an excuse not to join in with their casual conversation between sets.

He doesn’t stop looking at the Exy court each time he passes by, though.

* * *

Neil refuses on principle to go to the cafeteria during lunch.

Technically, he’s not supposed to leave the cafeteria or the courtyard behind it during his lunch period. They don’t want students wandering around, hooking up in the bathroom or causing what other chaos adults imagine adolescents get up to.

Neil waits in the bathroom during the passing period, though, and by the time the bell has rung, nobody notices one guy wander around on his own. When he is called out, he pretends to be getting something from his locker, which garners only suspicious glances.

He hasn’t yet found a nice, quiet place to sit and avoid everybody for the 40 minutes he’s supposed to be eating and socializing, but he keeps looking.

* * *

Neil thinks he does a decent job blending in. Cross country is generic enough to throw everybody off: he’s involved enough to get potentially concerned teachers off his back, but not so involved as to really develop a social life. His grades are slightly above average, could probably be higher if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

Neil is _fine_.

* * *

He finally finds somewhere to sit for lunch four weeks into the year. There’s an inexplicable doorway that doesn’t have a fire alarm set off when you open it just by the math hallway that leads outside. It has two steps down to the harsh concrete that bridges the distance between the upperclassmen’s building and the gym.

He drops to the upper step, mostly hidden by the shadow cast by the doorway, and leans back on his hands.

As much time as he spends on his own, Neil gets overwhelmed during the day. So many people and voices and petty problems. He tunes it out as best he can, but it bleeds in anyway. He gives a few guys on the team ‘sup nods, exchanges polite words with deskmates in a few classes. To be a complete loner is to draw even more attention to himself.

The stoop is a nice find, then, a breather in the middle of the day, where he can take a minute and let his shoulders relax as much as they ever do.

* * *

During the second week of Neil’s stoop escapism, there’s a boy standing there when he gets outside. He freezes, door still held open, and stares. The other guy is even shorter than Neil, with blond hair and dark clothes that seem out of place out here in the sunshine. His back is facing Neil.

“Close the door,” the boy says when Neil still doesn’t move after a minute, trying to decide what to do. “Either go tell on me, or come out here. Just stop standing there.”

Tell on him? It takes Neil another minute to realize that he’s holding a cigarette, a tendril of smoke winding away into the sunshine. Annoyed at the implication that Neil is a snitch, he steps outside and lets the door close.

The blond boy doesn’t turn to Neil or address him in any way, and Neil hovers in the doorway, still unsure of how he should play this. Finally, he decides to act normal, so he drops onto the top step and looks deliberately away from the interloper.

Neither of them says anything else the whole period, even though they both stay out there. Neil stares vacantly into the distance and Smoking Guy smokes, presumably.

Neil only gets a glimpse of his face when they file back inside at the bell, a flash of hazel and smooth skin, before they’re both swallowed by the crowd.

* * *

“Hey Neil, we’re heading over to watch the Exy game after practice, want to come?” Todd, the team captain, asks one day during stretches.

It’s mid-October, and Neil is still fine. Cross country is only during the fall semester, but he thinks he’ll join track with most of the rest of the team in the spring. The Exy team has been doing pretty well. Neil listens for the scores and stats during announcements each morning, even as he tries to look uninterested.

Going to a game….watching it up close…and it wouldn’t even look suspicious, not with a group from the team.

“Sure,” Neil agrees, balancing on one leg. Todd shoots him a grin.

Practice seems shorter than usual, after that. Most of the team gathers after showering and changing and trudges to the stands together. There are subgroups and pairs and cliques that break off once they’re settled down, joking together and chatting. Neil, however, can’t look away from the court.

He can’t remember the last time he was this close to one. He can see the details on the players’ padding, the strings in the goals’ nets. The game is already underway, and PHS has an early lead.

Neil falls in love with the game all over as he watches it.

The teams are decently matched, but there are a few stand out players. The opposition has a massive backliner. PHS has a particularly sure-footed forward. More than that, however, the PHS goalie is _incredible_.

Neil can hardly believe his eyes as the player makes stop after amazing stop. This seems par for the course, if the non-reactions of the other PHS players and fans are anything to go by.

Some of the cross country teams filters away over the course of the game, but Neil can’t imagine leaving. His hands itch to hold a racket again.

“Never pegged you as much of an Exy fan,” Todd comments when the last whistle blows. Neil leans back, clutching his omnipresent duffel against his leg, and shrugs. “The team was never this good without Doe in goal, though.”

“Is he new?” Neil’s surprised he asks. He looks back to the court and is shocked to actually recognize the goalie as the guy who smoked during lunch the other day.

“He was last year. Lots of weird rumors about him.”

Todd’s attention is diverted by a squabble between Connor and Diego, and Neil is able to slip away with a few murmured goodbyes. God, he wishes he could play Exy again.

* * *

The goalie joins Neil again the next day, and Neil only stops for a second when he opens the door this time.

Neil watches him out of the corner of the eye and thinks back to the game he watched last night. This kid is talented, even if he didn’t seem to care much about it. Colleges have to be after him. He could probably play for the Ravens, and the thought makes Neil shiver. He holds his duffel a little tighter.

They don’t say anything until Neil can’t help it. He turns to the other boy just as he flicks open his lighter and pulls out his third cigarette of the period.

“You shouldn’t smoke,” Neil tells him. The other boy lets his hands drop to his sides, lighter extinguished on the way down. He looks blankly at Neil. “I mean…you’ve got real potential for Exy. It’ll screw with your lungs.”

The goalie levels Neil with a long, assessing gaze. Neil stares back and wonders if it’s weird for him to admit to knowing that this guy plays Exy. He looks down at the cigarette he’s holding, and finds that he doesn’t regret saying anything. He shouldn’t mess with his body like that.

His mom smoked, sure, and the smell of smoke now takes him to places he doesn’t like to go. He’s thought about buying his own cigarettes, lighting them up for the familiar smell, but he’s still underage. His new birthday isn’t until March 31, and he doesn’t want anybody questioning him.

Finally, the other boy shrugs and looks away. He plays with the lighter in his hand. “I don’t really care about Exy.”

“You should. You could go places with it.”

Neil doesn’t know why he’s continuing this conversation, or even why he started it to begin with.

“Exy is dumb.” The goalie finally lights up the cigarette and looks away from Neil again.

Neil clenches his fists. What he would give to play Exy again, and this asshole is just throwing it away…

They don’t say anything else, and Neil doesn’t see the blond boy in his lunch spot for the rest of the semester.

* * *

Neil is _fine_.

Cross country ends, and he does well enough for the team to congratulate him but not so well that he has to go to state or anything. His hair stays black and dull, his eyes a muddy brown. Nobody seems to give him much thought.

Over winter break, he takes a couple of buses down to one of the beaches by San Francisco. He stands on the sand, stares out at the too-blue water, and tries not to cry.

He buys his first pack of cigarettes on Christmas. The cashier doesn’t card him.


	2. ii.

Andrew has spent every Sunday since he got out of juvie either in church or at an Exy tournament. It’s not a future he would have predicted for himself two years ago.

The Jamesons are religious, though, so Andrew doesn’t have much of a say. Cathleen spends time at the church nearly everyday. Steve drops a twenty in the basket that circulates every week. Andrew has been pressured into volunteer activities with Cathleen on more than one occasion.

Catholicism is something that Andrew does not understand, not even a little bit, not even after spending several hours focused on nothing but it every week for a year and a half. It’s important to Cathleen and Steve, though, perhaps _the_ most important thing.

Andrew thinks they would probably throw him out if they found out he was gay.

It’s still the best place he’s ever lived. Steve drops him off at school in the morning, a paper bag lunch assembled by Cathleen in his backpack and a functioning smartphone in his pocket.

Exy was something that Andrew didn’t care about, wouldn’t bother with, except that Cathleen and Steve had seemed so _excited_ when they noticed the racket his parole officer gave him.

Over winter break, in between the college applications that Cathleen insists upon Andrew filling out, nevermind the fact that he has literally no way of paying for higher education, he practices exactly one time.

Steve drives him over to the gym the family is members at and takes shots on him. Halfway through, Kendra and Kenny, Steve and Cathleen’s _real_ kids, show up and join in.

Andrew only lets a few shots in, and feels something like smugness at the exhaustion all three of them are showing.

He gets three presents on Christmas: some new Exy gear, a book about zombies, and a surprisingly large quantity of socks with bright patterns on them.

“I know you like wearing black,” Kendra explains, flipping through the socks that she and Kenny had given him, “but I thought this could be a fun way to branch out a little. Do something unexpected.”

“Thanks,” he tells her, smiling the most sincere way he knows how. “That could be a good change.”

She grins and elbows Kenny in the ribs when she notices him wearing a pair the next day.

It’s the best Christmas he’s ever had, even if he does have to sit through an interminable Mass. He prays that day, for maybe the fifth time since he’d first entered the ornate church, that he’d never be sent back to the Spears.

* * *

The Exy team takes up a lot of his time, something that Andrew would care about if he cared about how most of his time was used. It probably gets him out of more volunteering at the church, so that’s a plus.

The Grizzlies have advanced on to the championship season for the second year in a row, the third time in the Exy program’s history. Andrew’s skill in goal is an undeniably central explanation for that, something he doesn’t really care about.

Andrew receives an email over break that would surprise him if he cared enough to be surprised these days. He’s supposed to have his free period converted into practice so that Coach Mac can work with him and get him in shape for the college scouts still attending games.

Andrew has managed to avoid all talk of college sports around Cathleen and Steve thus far. He doesn’t really know what to make of it, doesn’t think it’s going to work out, and doesn’t want to get anybody’s expectations up.

Mac had somehow convinced the school that Andrew deserves to workshop his goalie skills one-on-one, though, and that requires a schedule change.

Rather than being in Ms. Rodriguez’s eighth period Statistics class, he’s now in her fourth period class, as Mac can only get to school at the end of the day.

Andrew couldn’t really care less, although he’s slightly annoyed that he’s missing out on his free period. He’d been using that time to do homework, which meant more time at home doing nothing much at all. He likes having a bit of time at the end of the day to stare out the window and resist sneaking a smoke. It’s better than doing close readings of Macbeth, at the very least.

Cathleen and Steve promise him, the night before he’s supposed to go back to school, that they’re going to be coming to every game they can, and that they’ll ask for everybody to pray for him and his team as they try to win the state championship.

“Thanks,” Andrew says with a smile, instead of _there’s no chance that a public school in Oakland is going to beat out those privileged assholes around LA_ or _your prayers do nothing_ or _don’t come, don’t meet any college scouts_.

 _If there is a God_ , he thinks that night, climbing into a bed in a room that has a lock, in a room that he’s been allowed to decorate to be his own, _please, please, please don’t ever send me back to the Spears._

* * *

Andrew walks into Ms. Rodriguez’s fourth period Statistics class and freezes. Sitting beside the window in the fourth row is the unmistakable figure of Neil Josten.

Andrew unfreezes, hopes nobody has noticed his reaction, and saunters to sit in the chair directly behind Neil. The back of Neil’s head isn’t that interesting, just a mess of black hair, but his back looks strong, even under his faded, baggy shirt.

Neil Josten being in fourth period Stats is enough to Andrew to almost wish he had suggested one-on-one practices to Mac back in September.

* * *

Exy is the same as ever. Andrew doesn’t throw the ball at the back of anybody’s head because he won’t just be put on kitchen duty here, he’ll be yelled at and then, maybe, word will get back to the Jamesons, and what if he gets sent back to the Spears–

He doesn’t really want to talk to anybody. He yells at Cheng when he gets too close to the goal. He discusses the book they’re reading in French with Tekien. He nods along when Coach Mac goes over a play and looks at Andrew like he’s supposed to add something.

Cathleen grins when he tells her about practice, over a dinner of roast chicken and mashed potatoes, asks when the first game is. He tells her he’ll email her the schedule, from the desktop computer in the kitchen that he’s allowed to use.

He does the dishes after dinner. Cathleen smiles at him softly and calls him a good kid. Andrew pretends not to hear her, doesn’t know what to do with something like that.

* * *

Neil Josten switched to the school at the start of year. Nobody knows where he went before, if he moved from out of town or just changed schools. He didn’t say much to anybody, still doesn’t, and likes to act like he doesn’t notice anything or anybody.

It’s probably a hard act to keep up, Andrew imagines, when half the upperclassmen girls keep batting their eyelashes and staring hopefully across the classroom in his direction.

He didn’t help matters much by joining cross country, the team most notorious for its attractiveness. When he walks down the hall with Todd Jiang, dreamy sighs follow in their wake.

Andrew doesn’t really want to compare himself to the teenage girls around him, thinks he’s probably gone through much, much more than they can even imagine (the rumors that followed his own arrival at the school prove that much), but his reaction to Neil Josten isn’t much better.

Neil Josten may be the most attractive guy Andrew has ever seen up close.

Granted, there isn’t much competition. Juvie wasn’t exactly home to many future contenders for America’s Next Top Model. Andrew is still just seventeen, knows that most of his peers suffer from acne and will for years to come.

Neil Josten has absurdly smooth skin, right up to the edge of the long-sleeved, high-collared shirts he always wears. Andrew would like very much to see what he looks like underneath those baggy, conservative shirts.

In his head, Andrew is happy to undress Neil, to lay him bare and soak it in with his eyes. He knows that if the opportunity ever (miraculously) arose in real life, he would almost certainly shake the whole time, would flinch if Neil made a move to touch him.

The Neil Josten that lives in Andrew’s head is infinitely preferable to any that he could ever get to know.

Staring at the back of his head five times a week doesn’t let Andrew get to know what Neil Josten is really like. Andrew is content to keep it that way, to let his imagination run wild. Stats is a pretty easy class, anyway.

* * *

Sometimes, though, Andrew can’t help but remember the real Neil Josten, the one he talked to. He can’t forget the words they’ve exchanged, few though they are.

It had been...an interesting interaction.

Upsides: Neil knows who he is, at least by face. Neil thinks he’s good at Exy (though that’s more like accepting a fact than really formulating his own opinion). Neil is invested enough in Andrew’s future and wellbeing to initiate a conversation about it.

Downsides: Neil obviously cares about Exy, thinks it’s something that somebody should build a future around. Neil didn’t turn him in, in the end, but he thought about it. Nothing about their interaction really made Andrew think that he was anything but a rule-abiding, slightly boring teenager.

Andrew prefers studying the muscles he can deduce the presence of under Neil’s shirts, observing the pale expanse of his neck, taking in the long, dark hair that stands out above it.

Andrew likes it that way, likes the distance between them, likes that he can close the distance in his head even if he never can in real life.

* * *

Exy goes well. Andrew doesn’t have to care to be good. He practices and practices and practices and knows that if he keeps it up, he won’t have to go back to the Spears.

He had called Cass Mom, maybe, but that was overshadowed by–

He stares at the calendar in the kitchen when he does his homework sometimes, the approaching date of his eighteenth birthday. He wonders what the Jamesons will do then, wonders what his life will look like after June 18th, when he can breathe easy with the knowledge that there’s no risk of going back to the Spears ever again.

* * *

“Your final project is, of course, conducting your own experiment and then analyzing the results,” Ms. Rodriguez reminds them one Monday morning, almost at the end of class. Everybody in the room looks even less happy to be there than usual. “You will work with a partner of your choosing to pick what you’re testing and have time in class to work on it a few times throughout the semester, although most of your work will be done outside of class.”

Andrew grimaces. He doesn’t know anybody in this class (unless you count being able to describe, inch by inch, the back of a person’s head as _knowing_ ) and doesn’t like having anybody around to meet his foster family. It usually raises more questions than Andrew likes dealing with.

“Today, you guys can get with your partner and start talking about what you’ll be experimenting on.”

The class erupts into loud conversations as friends bicker over who gets to work with whom and as other friends yell across the room. Andrew sinks lower in his chair and contemplates how annoying it’ll be to have Rodriguez match him up with somebody like he’s a third grader with no friends.

In front of him, Neil looks equally unenthused as he surveys the classroom. Neil’s gaze swings around to meet Andrew’s, and Andrew can see a look of confused recognition before he looks back around the chaos.

Andrew looks up at the ceiling, sighs, and leans forwards.

“Do you want to work together?” he asks. Neil jumps slightly, twisting around. Andrew hasn’t had the chance to appreciate his face as much as the back of his head, which is a damn shame.

“Um, I guess,” Neil says after an almost too long pause. Andrew suppresses the disappointment somewhere inside him that Neil still seems like an ordinary, uninteresting, slightly antisocial teenage boy with abysmal fashion sense.

“I’m Neil,” he continues, sticking out a hand. Andrew takes it and tries to pretend that he hasn’t thought about Neil while he–

“Andrew.” When was the last time Andrew shook hands with somebody, anyway? “Any ideas for the project?”

Neil shrugs. Andrew resists rolling his eyes, and keeps his eyes on the prize: decent grades, potential acceptance to college, keep the Jamesons from kicking him out. He looks over the examples of past experiments.

Everything about this project is dead boring. Andrew doesn’t even remember what compelled him to take this elective in the first place.

“Um, what if we do an experiment about running and listening to music?” Neil offers, startling Andrew out of his despair spiral. Andrew raises his head, cocks an interested eyebrow. “I do track and cross country. I could get my teammates to, I don’t know, run half a mile or something listening to music and not listening to music and compare the samples.”

It’s not too complicated. There’s room for a lot of external variables to affect it, and it’s not exactly solving global warming, but it’s also one idea more than Andrew expected Neil to offer.

“Sure,” Andrew agrees. It’s not like he has a better idea. He glances up at the clock. The period is almost over. “Maybe we should meet after school to talk about the details?”

Neil shrugs. “It’s still off-season, so I don’t have practice every day.”

Andrew frowns. “Oh, I do have practice. We could do it after that?”

Neil shrugs again. “I can come over to your house or something.”

Andrew tenses. He doesn’t want to get to know Neil, not really, not break the illusion he’s created for himself. He certainly doesn’t want Neil to get to know him.

“Maybe we could go over to yours?”

Neil shakes his head. “My mom’s weird about having people over. The house is still a mess.”

 _Still_. Andrew thinks that’s at least one piece of the Neil Josten puzzle: he and his mom are recently moved, and not the types to unpack in a hurry.

“If you want to stick around the school, the library’s open until, like, 7, and practice will be over by 5:30. We shouldn’t have to talk too long.”

“The library’s open til 6:30 today,” Neil comments as the bell rings. Andrew wonders why he knows the library schedule so well, wants to erase his memory of every piece of information Neil Josten has offered him today. “I’ll meet you there.”

Andrew watches as Neil Josten leaves class, shoulders hunched slightly towards himself, and prepares himself to be disappointed.

After all, he always is.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as ever...i have proofread nothing, sorry if there's tons of mistakes...it's 3am what am i doing  
> (hit me up on tumblr at exysexual for more writing and/or vague mentions of writing in gratuitous tags! i also take prompts!)


	3. iii.

Practice, as it turns out, ends a bit early. Andrew wanders into the library at 5:15 and casts a cursory look around. He finds Neil sitting by the window, intently reading _The Handmaid’s Tale_.

“Hey,” Andrew says after he’s sat down as noisily as he can and Neil hasn’t moved. Neil looks up and closes his book. “Engrossing book?”

Neil shrugs. It seems like his go-to move. “Sure.” He taps a finger against the table and looks away from Andrew. “Practice go well?”

Andrew is pleasantly surprised by Neil’s question. He tries to quash it. “The usual. People throw balls at me. I stop them. Not much to it.”

Neil purses his lips and keeps tapping against the table, minute gestures Andrew only catches given his intense scrutiny. He wonders what they mean, and doesn’t want to ask–

“You a big Exy fan?”

Neil’s hand pauses against the table. He looks back at Andrew, and the brown eyes he can see surprise Andrew. He’s never been close enough to focus on Neil’s eyes, but in his head they were green or blue or a chocolatey brown, not the dull muddy one that looks back at him. 

Dammit, this is exactly why distance makes everything better.

“Not so much,” Neil replies. Andrew wonders how he recognized him then, why he commented on the cigarettes, why– “Anyway, the project?”

They work out the details, the control group and the question and the hypothesis. They split the research they have to do beforehand, make a general plan for how it’ll work. Neil seems a lot smarter and better at math than Andrew had bargained for, and he finds himself working hard to stay one step ahead.

“Alright, so I’ll ask my teammates when I see them around, and we should be able to conduct the experiment over the next few weeks,” Neil says as Andrew slides his notes into his backpack.

“Why don’t you just text them now?” Andrew suggests. “Actually, why don’t I give you my number so you can let me know what they say and we can keep in touch?" 

His heart pounds against his ribs. He knows that it’s standard protocol for group projects, that Neil can’t possibly know how he feels, but it’s still putting himself out there.

Neil shakes his head. “I don’t have a phone.”

Andrew stares at him. Neil looks back steadily, those nondescript brown eyes betraying nothing.

“You don’t have a phone?” Neil shakes his head again. Andrew quirks an eyebrow. “Hell, even I have a phone. What gives?” 

Neil shrugs, a hand tapping against the table again. Andrew pointedly ignores it, doesn’t try to figure out what kind of a tell it is. “My old phone fell in some water and I never got around to replacing it.”

“And your parents didn’t get you a new one?” Andrew is fixating, he knows, but it’s just so _weird._ Who doesn’t have a phone in this day and age? Even Andrew has almost always been given at least a shitty flip phone, at least since he was old enough to use one.

“My parents don’t really care,” Neil answers, a strange turn to his lips and his eyes on something behind Andrew. “Sorry, though. I mean, we’ll just see each other in class, right? It’s not a huge deal.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Andrew replies slowly, eyeing Neil. The other boy bends over his own bag, a duffel bag rather than a backpack like most students have. It’s something Andrew has studied in class from time to time and still can’t figure out. Maybe it’s just part of Neil’s appalling taste, or he goes to the gym after school every day.

“Cool.” Neil stands up and Andrew tries to both follow him out of the library and not look like he’s following him.

“How d’you get home?” Andrew asks when the library doors have closed behind them.

“I walk,” Neil says. “You?” 

“Bus, ride from my, um, parents, or walk,” Andrew shrugs. Dammit, why is this the conversation he decided to pursue? Could it be more boring? 

“Josten!” a new voice behind them yells, and both boys turn to find Connor Mehta jogging down the hallway, looking at Andrew curiously. “Doe.”

“Hey, Connor,” Neil greets casually, throwing his hand up for a well-practiced fist bump. It’s surprisingly bro-y, and Andrew tries not to physically wilt. Neil Josten: better at math than expected, but still an average teenage boy, luddite with terrible fashion sense though he may be. 

“What’re you still hanging around school for?”

“Stats project.” Neil grimaces in what-can-you-do kind of way and Connor nods. “Oh, hey, would you be willing to participate in our experiment?”

“Hell yeah!” Connor grins. “I get to be a data point? My greatest dreams come true.”

“Okay, asshole.” Neil rolls his eyes and glances back at Andrew. “There, at least we’ve got one subject now.”

Andrew raises his hands in sarcastic jazz hands. Connor chuckles.

“Hit me with the deets at practice next week,” Connor commands Neil, backing away towards where he came from. “See ya around. Josten, Doe.”

Neil and Andrew watch him turn and head back up the hallway, a jaunt to his step. Andrew can’t help but envy the simple camaraderie between the two, the ease with which Connor walks. 

“I’ve never really understood why jocks feel such a need to call everybody by their last names,” Andrew comments as he and Neil resume their walk.

Neil snorts. “You say that like you’re not a jock.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “I think jocks care about sports. That’s like the fundamental definition of a jock. I don’t give a shit.”

Neil’s face falls back to neutrality and Andrew blinks. “Whatever you say _._ ”

The rest of the walk out of the school is silent. Andrew looks up at the clear January sky and prepares ready for his walk home. It’s not too cold, which is basically the one upside for having stayed in California. Not that he had much of a choice, besides the way he talked them into relocating him. 

“See ya around,” Neil says when it becomes clear they’re walking opposite ways. He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns and slouches down the sidewalk. Andrew allows himself a moment to watch his back, the way the sun hits his dark hair, the set of his shoulders and his long legs. 

Finally, as Neil turns the corner, Andrew sticks his hands in his pockets and heads towards the Jamesons. As he walks, he tries to picture Neil’s house, wonders what his parents are like.

 It’s the first day in a long time that he doesn’t even think about the Spears.

* * *

Neil hates his Stats project. Well, he doesn’t much care about the actual math part of the Stats project. That’ll be easy, just a few calculations and tables that’ll be no problem even on the ancient library computers. 

Andrew Doe, though, is terrible. He’s smart, not just with good points to make about the project, but an obviously incredible memory and sharp eyes and some kind of curiosity about Neil. Neil has worked so, so hard to stay under the radar, to not share too much, but he’s already given his Stats partner too much to work with.

 That isn’t to say that he thinks Andrew suspects anything. No, he just think that Andrew has the potential to realize that there’s something weird about him, and that could be enough. He’d answered too honestly, had said that he straight up doesn’t have a phone rather than his just broke like he told his other acquaintances.

Worse than all of that, though, is that Andrew Doe is practically an Exy prodigy who doesn’t give a shit about Exy. God, Neil would give almost anything to have the courage to pick up a racket again, to feel a ball against its strings. Andrew has it _all_ and he doesn’t even realize it. 

Andrew Doe is smart, and has parents who give him rides, and lives in a world where it weirds him out not own a phone, and plays Exy without appreciating it.

Neil doesn’t even care about the peculiarity of his name or the fact that he willingly partnered up with Neil or the fact that they’ll work fine together. Neil hates Andrew Doe.

* * *

Andrew stays away, he really does. He doesn’t go back out to the stoop where he found Neil before, sticks to the doorway he usually loiters by during lunch to smokes. He doesn’t stop by the library after practice to see if he’s around. 

They email about the project. Neil conducts a few experiments on his teammates, and Andrew gets a few of his teammates to participate for him. (Tekien is weirdly excited about the whole thing, and Cheng demands to be a part after Tekien tells him about it.) 

Andrew doesn’t scoff at them, doesn’t roll his eyes. He smiles and thanks them and thinks about how Cathleen had listened carefully as he explained every part of the experiment, how she had talked with him about what they think will happen.

He asks if there’s anything for him to do at the church that weekend. Cathleen beams at him, and he doesn’t even care about how repulsive PB&Js become to him after making three hundred of them because he’s starting to think of the Jameson house as home.

If Andrew accidentally glares at Claire Hopkins after she flirts with an apparently disinterested Neil in the hallway, if he bores holes into the back of Neil’s head in Stats, if he still thinks about him at night sometimes– nobody has to know. He’s kept his distance, and he likes it that way.

* * *

“Connor, do you think you could stick around after practice for the Stats thing?” Neil asks after practice a couple of weeks after their run-in in the hallway.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Connor winks. Neil rolls his eyes. Connor is so aggressively normal it sometimes set Neil on edge, but sometimes it’s a nice counterbalance to how overwhelmingly lonesome Neil’s days have become.

“So you’re working on this project with Andrew Doe, right?” Connor asks as he stretches. Neil’s fetched his Stats notebook and the watch he’s using for the experiment. He nods absently, flipping through his notes. “What’s he like?” 

Neil shrugs. “Seems fine.”

Connor hums thoughtfully. “Lots of weird rumors about that guy.” 

Neil finds the correct page and looks up. He doesn’t really want to know more about the boy who takes his future for granted, but a part of him is curious. “Like what?”

Connor windmills his arms and furrows his brow in thought. “Well, he transferred here last year, and is super incredible at Exy. Like, I heard that Edgar Allen sent a scout in the Fall. He’s crazy good.”

Neil tries not to tense at the mention of the Ravens.

“But I guess nobody can find anything about where he came from? Like, he’s never been on an Exy team in the area, and he wasn’t playing for a high school team before. A bunch of kids tried to figure it out and they couldn’t. Then there’s his last name.”

Neil frowns and stares down at his notes.

“I mean, Doe? That’s like the name dead guys on _Bones_ and shit usually have, not a high school student.”

“Probably just means they don’t know where he came from, right?” Neil says after Connor stays silent for a moment.

“I guess.” Connor shakes out his arms and hops around. “He goes to Diego’s church, and his parents are super religious and nice and stuff. But then he’s pretty sarcastic and…I don’t know, apathetic? It’s just a weird situation.”

Neil thinks that his own situation is much stranger, so his perspective is probably skewed. 

“Has he done anything weird at school or anything?” 

“Besides smoke during lunch?” Connor snorts. “Nah, he seems pretty normal. But, like, most people agree that it just seems like he’s faking it. Like, he doesn’t actually like anybody and Exy and stuff. It’s just…weird.”

Neil stares down at his notes. Andrew Doe: Exy prodigy of mysterious origin, loner with suspicion cast over his every move. Neil wonders if he’s been quick to judge, if Andrew Doe may understand more about the real world than Neil gives him credit for. 

“Anyway, glad he’s a fine partner for this. Now, what do you want me to do again?”

* * *

Andrew locks the door to his room that night and stares at the ceiling as he tries to fall asleep. He has less than five months until absolute freedom, until the new uncertainty of life after high school.

He drifts off to dull brown eyes and generic black hair and an imagined life that seems so much better than his own, a world where he can touch and be touched and not worry about what that means.

* * *

Winter makes Neil’s adopted house that much creakier, which means it's that much easier to sleep. Nobody will surprise him in the middle of the night. He smokes a cigarette before bed, stares into the smoke and remembers everything he can about his mom.

His dad won’t find him here, can’t find him from a jail in Seattle. He falls asleep to memories of Exy and the biggest Court in the world and doesn’t wake back up until the morning. 

He feels like his roof won’t fall down on him, like his front door won’t open to anybody but himself, but the walls are closing in anyway and he doesn’t know how to make them stop.

He flips through his Exy magazine before school, thinks of the weight of a racket in his hand, and wishes, for the first time since his mom died, that he could run far, far away and never look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this mayyy feel filler-y, but i actually have an idea of where it's going! wooooohooooo! i won't be traveling as much in the next few weeks so i'm hoping to update a lot sooner this time around! :) hope you guys still like it and remember to hmu at exysexual on tumblr if you have questions/concerns/idek :)))


	4. iv.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for a panic attack that isn't described exactly in detail, but is talked around/the after effects are described

Neil has never hotwired a car alone before.

It’s different, to look at the innards of a vehicle and rely solely on your own intuition to make it work and to not have the safety net he’s used to. On the run, he never in a million years would’ve expected to miss his mom’s harsh words and harsher hands, but he has to fight to keep his own hands still now.

It’s just…weekends are hard, a shapeless stretch of time until he knows exactly where he’s meant to be again, and this shitty car has been parked on his street for three weeks without moving.

Nobody’s going to miss it, not for a day at least.

He lets out a sigh of relief when he feels it come to life beneath his hands and rests his forehead against the steering wheel.

What now?

All he knows is that he wants to get away from it all. He doesn’t have as many resources as he’d like, doesn’t want to actually up and leave, but still.

He remembers being Chris and Stefan and Nathaniel all too clearly, the fleeting identities that he could discard without a thought. Neil feels harder to shake.

After staring blankly at the dashboard for a minute, he decides to hit up a gas station and go from there.

* * *

The gas station by the Jamesons is one of the only places in the surrounding area that sells Sour Punch Straws.

That, at least, is what Andrew tells Cathleen before he slips out of the house.

In reality, the gas station by the Jamesons _is_ the closest place that sells Sour Punch Straws, but it’s also a nice ten-minute walk away and an excuse to get out of the house for a bit.

Kenny and Kendra are home from college for the weekend, and nice as they are, it all gets a bit Stepford-y when the whole family is together.

Also, giving twins such similar names? What’s up with that? It’s like they didn’t even want to give them a chance at differentiating themselves.

Andrew is staring at the candy section, deliberating between Sour Punch Straws and Sour Patch Kids (which will be more artificial? which has more sugar?), when a familiar figure walks into the station and heads straight for the register. Andrew grabs the Straws and hurries as casually as he can to the cashier.

“…yeah, just fill it up, but I’ve only got cash,” Neil is saying when Andrew gets close enough to hear.

Seriously? Why does Neil only have cash? What kind of shady-ass parents does he have that let him drive the car around without a credit card?

The second cashier gestures to Andrew and he saunters forwards, caught somewhere between hoping that Neil will notice him and that he’ll escape without shattering any further illusions.

He watches out of the corner of his eye as Neil slides some money across the counter, gaze fixed out the window. Andrew looks out to find only a pretty shitty car at the pump nearest the station, all scraped up and bare bones.

“Oh, hey, Andrew.”

Andrew turns back to Neil and tries to look surprised as he gives him a nod of acknowledgement. He retrieves his change and candy and follows Neil out of the station towards his car.

“What’re you up to today?” Andrew finds himself asking, stalling out by the front of Neil’s car. Neil shrugs.

“Got the car to myself and just want to get away, honestly.”

Andrew cocks his head. Curious.

“You picking up a teammate or something?”

Neil shakes his head. “I don’t have any plans.”

“What, you’re just going to…drive anywhere?”

Neil nods.

“That sounds nice.”

Neil looks away from the nozzle in his hand and nods at Andrew. “Yeah. It’ll be good.” Andrew bobs his head awkwardly and wonders if he’s supposed to leave now. “What’re you up to today?”

Andrew tries not to feel pleased at the question. “Uh, not much. My family’s having a bit of a bonding day and it creeps me out.”

Neil smiles at that. Andrew looks away instead of trying to memorize it. “What do you mean?”

Andrew kicks at the pavement beneath his feet. How much should he reveal?

“Mostly a lot more prayer than I’m down for,” he settles on. “And too many expectations.”

Neil finishes gassing up and leans on the driver’s side door, a contemplative look on his face.

“What kinds of expectations?”

Andrew swallows uncomfortably. Why had he said anything?

“Mostly Exy stuff,” he shrugs. “There’ve been some college scouts around and it’s getting everybody’s hopes up.”

Neil nods. Andrew clutches the Sour Punch Straws tighter in his hand. 

“Anyway, have fun with your…drive or whatever,” he says after a moment. “I’ll see you in school.”

Andrew can feel the other teen’s eyes on his back as he crosses the parking lot. He tries to move smoothly, to not betray how quickly his heart is thumping against his ribs.

* * *

Neil drives south because he doesn’t want to recognize anything. He follows the signs on the highway mindlessly, consciously forgets what lies north of Oakland, and tries to lose himself in the familiar motions of driving and passing and signaling.

It doesn’t really work.

Part of the problem is how aware he is of the need to drive inconspicuously. If he’s pulled over, they’ll be able to tell something is wrong with the car, and then they’ll look into it, and then he’ll be investigated–

It seems impossible to remain invisible when you’re trying to be, though. Neil stares at the speedometer, is acutely aware of the speed limit and the cars around him and–

It’s better than thinking about beaches and smoke and fire, maybe, but it’s still thinking of cause and effect, his faked identity and what could happen from there.

Neil tries to focus on what he’s seeing, the clear skies above him and the obnoxious hipsters around him, but it doesn’t work.

He stops at a McDonald’s and grabs some food. He eats in the car, stares at the greasy bag and tries to focus on anything other than his life.

Somehow, he ends up thinking back over Andrew Doe. Andrew Doe, who is overwhelmed by the expectations of his family, who is uncomfortable with their religion. 

Andrew Doe, who doesn’t actually seem to take his future for granted.

Doe. Neil doesn’t know much about Does, why somebody ends up with that name– unidentified dead bodies? Unknown arrested criminals?

Abandoned kids?

Maybe, just maybe, Neil has been too quick to write Andrew Doe off. Maybe his quick eyes and incredible hands and sharp mind aren’t being wasted in a comfortable life with a loving family.

Neil doesn’t get back on the road for a long while.

* * *

Andrew watches Neil come into class on Monday with a look of casual indifference he absolutely did not practice in the mirror. Neil slouches in, eyes on the ground except a quick glance around the room, and drops into his seat with no acknowledgement to Andrew.

Andrew resolutely does not give a flying shit what Neil Josten does.

After class (a class that Andrew did not pay any attention to, caught between worrying about the Edgar Allen scout coming to their next game and tracing the back of Neil’s head with his eyes), Neil turns to him on their way out.

“Should we start up on the report? We’ve gotten a big enough sample size.”

Andrew shrugs. Two can play at that game, Josten. 

“Can we meet after school again and divide it up?”

“Sure, but I have practice.”

Josten nods. They’ve reached the hallway, and Andrew should want to escape to his next class, but he stays rooted to the spot.

“5:30, library?”

Andrew nods, the epitome of cool and collected, and heads off to Bio without looking back.

* * *

Neil keeps an ear out for Andrew this time, sets down _1984_ before Andrew sits down. Andrew’s hair is damp, part of it plastered to his forehead, and Neil finds his eyes drawn to it.

"Hey," Neil thinks to say. Sometimes he feels like he's pretty good at being a normal high school student. 

“Sorry I’m a little late,” Andrew says, and Neil flicks his gaze away, focusing on the clock at the far end of the room that indicates that Doe is 15 minutes late. “Coach is freaking out because scouts will be at the game tomorrow, so he kept us late.”

“It’s fine,” Neil brushes off. He taps a finger against the desk, telling himself not to ask– “What scouts?”

Andrew tilts his head slightly. “Penn State, I think, maybe Berkeley. Oh, Edgar Allen.”

He throws it out there like it’s nothing, like it’s not the top team in the country, like it’s not where Riko and Kevin play, and Neil’s vision narrows to the teen in front of him. His throat constricts, and he forces himself to swallow, but suddenly he doesn’t know how to breathe–

* * *

“In and out, with me. On my count, ok?”

Neil blinks open his eyes and he has no idea how he ended up on the ground, or why Andrew is crouching in front of him, or why his throat feels raw and ragged–

“How about you try clenching your fist?”

Neil focuses on his hand, stares as his skin pales and his veins bulge slightly, and the echo in his head disappears. He swallows deeply and then lets out a shaky breath, pushing himself upright.

“You back with me?” Andrew asks, his tone neutral and face blank. Neil licks his lips nervously, eyes darting around the otherwise empty library.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps out, coughing once. “That’s never happened before.”

“Panic attacks are more common than you’d expect,” Andrew shrugs, standing up. Neil hoists himself off the ground, one hand remaining clenched against the back of the chair. He stares at his feet and lets his mind remain peacefully blank for a few seconds before he starts planning again.

“Do you think, um, we could meet some other time?” Neil asks, looking back at the other boy. Andrew is still watching him, his expression inscrutable.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Neil packs his stuff up wordlessly, ignoring Andrew’s movements, and leaves with a tight smile before he starts panicking again where the other boy can see.

* * *

Andrew is distracted all through dinner, but the Jamesons don’t mind- Mac had mentioned to them that scouts would be there tomorrow, so they attribute his absentmindedness to that. They skirt around the issue, forcing food upon him and saying a longer grace than usual, but otherwise letting him be.

He flops down on his bed afterwards and stares at the ceiling, his mind replaying the scene in the library on repeat. The casual conversation, Neil’s look of absolute terror, the moment he lost control and dropped to the floor–

It makes absolutely no sense. Panic attacks happen, but some preliminary research tells Andrew that first time panic attacks don’t usually happen to people without anxiety disorders and no triggers.

Berkely, Penn State, Edgar Allen, Exy, college…what is so horrible to Neil Josten? And what could possibly prompt him to look that terrified?

Andrew barely even registers that he’ll be playing in front of them the next day as he spends the rest of the night trying to piece it together. No matter how he looks at it, though, he has only one conclusion: there’s more to Neil Josten than meets the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiiiiiiii remember me? long time no talk amirite? i'm so so sorry about how long it took to update- i was blocked like nobody's business, but at least i finally forced my way through this chapter?? hope it's not too different from the other chapters. i make no promises about the next update but i hope it'll be faster than this one! (way to set a low bar for myself...) as always you can hmu on tumblr at exysexual! thanks for reading <3 <3 <3


	5. v.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for mentions of panic attacks, classism (maybe?)

Neil has to get the fuck out of Oakland.

That’s the only thought bouncing around in his brain as he runs home, duffel slapping against his thigh in a familiar rhythm.

Andrew Doe knows too much about him. Has too many reasons to think him suspicious. 

Neil can’t believe he fucked up like that. His mom would– well, she wouldn’t be happy. A fucking panic attack? Just because Edgar Allen was _mentioned?_

Actually, it’s not that it was mentioned. It’s that representatives from there will be at his fucking school _tomorrow_ and that someday Andrew Doe could mention to Kevin or Riko this weird kid he knew–

When Neil gets to the house, he stops himself from spiraling. Kevin and Riko couldn’t possibly recognize him just from Andrew offhandedly mentioning him. And it’s not like they’d be coming themselves tomorrow. 

No, his biggest obstacle now is Andrew Doe.

* * *

Neil Josten isn’t in the room when Andrew gets to Stats on Tuesday.

He slides into his seat and tries not to watch the door too obviously. The bell rings, though, and Neil still hasn’t materialized.

Andrew spends the rest of class vaguely watching Rodriguez and cycling through wondering where Neil is, being annoyed that he’s curious, and thinking through the game tonight.

The Jamesons had somehow caught wind of the scout situation, so now Andrew is dealing with their excitement and hopes about Exy scholarships. He’s mostly kept up a fake smile, aside from last night, but he has no idea what will happen when the inevitable disappointment comes.

* * *

Mac lets Andrew play the entire game, and he gets a shutout, and the Jamesons hug him all at once and he only freezes for a second.

He glances around the stands, looking for Neil before he realizes what he’s doing. He doesn’t see him anywhere, and he barely has time to berate himself before Mac is pushing him to the office, where there’s a line of bored-looking people in collegiate apparel.

Cathleen squeezes his hand in comfort before following him into the room.

* * *

Neil skips out on school because he doesn't know if he's even going back. He organized and reorganized his bag, sorted through his documentation, thought about the money he had left, and tried to make a mental pro/con list for sticking around.

Pros: no wasting money on new IDs; no rent or money for the squatting; easy access to the school; knows a few people (mostly on the CC team) who make his days a little less lonely; no figuring out a new place, a new identity

Cons: Andrew Doe knows something is up

For his mom, that would’ve been enough. They would’ve left town as soon as Neil told her about it and she had sufficiently punished him. They would have gone to Montana or Arizona and she would’ve cussed him out the whole way, before her guy in Boise or Mesa got them new digs.

But now, it’s just Neil. It’s just Neil, whose disappearance from school would raise questions, and whose appearance in a new town would raise questions, and whose travel from Oakland to Boise alone would raise questions.

It’s just Neil, who already kind of hates waking up and going bed alone everyday, even with the guys he exchanges ‘sup nods with in the hall.

Being a teenager is a complicated thing, a mixture of wanting not to be quite so alone in the world and wanting everybody to ignore you at all times. Being a teenager on the run, trying to escape notice, with nobody to rely on or turn to– Neil isn’t sure if he wants to scream as loudly as he can or run away from it all.

He slumps into Stats on Wednesday with a plan, but he can hear the echoes of his mom’s constant vitriol as he drops into his seat. He ignores when Andrew Doe comes in, faces forwards and takes the most meticulous notes he’s ever taken. He hopes that he fades into the wall.

* * *

Andrew stares at the back of Neil’s head for the entirety of the class. Part of his mind is still reliving the discussions he had last night, when the Jamesons weighed Edgar Allen versus Berkeley versus Penn State, when Mac had grinned and slapped him on the back and said, “Good job, Doe.”

The other part is wondering what the fuck is up with Neil fucking Josten, who has a panic attack and disappears and then reappears without so much as a hello. Andrew may not be the most sociable of people, would ignore everybody if he could, but even he has to admit that Neil is fucking weird.

He’s probably embarrassed, Andrew guesses, thinking back to the panic attack. But to be embarrassed, he has to care what Andrew thinks to some degree, which doesn’t really compute. 

At the end of class, Neil turns around and rubs at the back of his neck, his eyes fixed on the wall behind Andrew.

“Um, hey, Andrew,” he says quickly, “sorry about last time. Do you think we could meet today instead?”

Andrew raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “No practice the day after a game, sure. Library 3:30?”

Neil nods and then books it out of the classroom, the opposite of his usual slouch. Andrew watches him go in confusion.

The fuck?

* * *

Neil gets to the library at 3:30 on the dot only to find Andrew already sitting at a table in the corner, pushing his chair back onto two legs.

Neil drops into the chair across from him and digs out his Stats notebook wordlessly. No more slipups.

“You feeling better?” Andrew asks as Neil reemerges. Neil bites his lip and nods, then lets out the story he’d been stewing.

“Um, yeah, sorry again,” he replies, putting as much sheepishness into his voice as possible. “My mom made me stay home yesterday ‘cause she was worried about me.”

Andrew nods, studying his face closely. Neil runs a hand back through his hair and tries to look as embarrassed as he can.

“We, uh, think it’s just all the talk about college that’s got me nervous,” he continues. “If it happens again, she’s going to make me talk to somebody about it.”

Andrew nods again.

“Anyway, Stats?”

* * *

Despite what Andrew would have expected, Neil Josten appears to genuinely care what Andrew thinks of him. Andrew tries to puzzle this out as he walks home, goes over everything he thinks he knows about the new kid.

He runs cross country and track. He’s smart but freaked out about college (admissions? Tuition? Adjusting to the environment?). He and his mom (no dad mentioned, except once when he said “my parents”) moved houses recently. He dresses horribly. His family has a really shitty car and he doesn’t have a credit card or a cell phone. He continually asks about Exy and Andrew despite claims that he doesn’t care about Exy. He doesn’t appear to notice that half the upperclassmen have crushes on him, but he cares what Andrew thinks.

There’s a few conclusions that Andrew comes to as he climbs up the Jameson’s front steps: Neil’s family is dirt poor; Neil is trying to hide that his family is dirt poor; Neil thinks Andrew might spread around the fact that Neil’s family is dirt poor.

Plausibly, Neil wants to play Exy but can’t afford it, and doesn’t even give a shit about Andrew.

Andrew tries not to feel too disappointed that Neil doesn’t actually care about him, or that Neil apparently judges him so harshly as to think he’d cade about something like his family’s wealth or spread it around.

Regardless, Andrew pastes on a smile as he steps inside, and shares with Cathleen the latest updates on his project. 

Neil Josten is nothing.

* * *

Neil has another panic attack that night. Alone, curled up under his blanket on the hard, cold floor, he tries to imagine the impression he’s made on Andrew, and it’s nothing good. He realizes he never asked about Andrew’s game and then wonders if he’s really being recruited by Edgar Allen and the next thing he knows he can’t breathe.

He doesn’t know how much time he loses, but he feels bone fucking tired when his breathing is back to normal, even though his mind is still going in circles.

He tries to picture Riko and Kevin and Andrew playing together. Tries to imagine the weight of a racket in his hand. Tries to remember his mom’s smile.

Neil doesn’t get much sleep that night.

* * *

Andrew almost stops dead upon entering the cafeteria the next day when he spots Neil sitting with a few of the guys from cross country. He has not once witnessed him in the cafeteria before, although he hardly looks out of place, leaning in and listening to Todd Jiang.

Andrew joins Tekien and Sam Reagan at the table they usually sit at, conveniently beside the cross country table. Andrew alternates between smoking and joining them at lunch, depending on how much he can handle inane Exy bullshit.

He sits as close as he dares to the CC table and can just overhear their conversation as Sam and Tekien continue discussing their defense at the game on Tuesday.

“C’mon, Josten, you gotta get a Facebook,” Jiang says with a grin. “You’re already withholding your cell number, so how else can we contact you?”

“I’m not getting a Facebook,” Neil replies. Andrew can see him picking at his protein bar out of the corner of his eye.

“Can you imagine how many friend requests he’d get, like, right away?” asks another guy who Andrew doesn’t know. “Half the junior class would be on him like _that.”_

Neil slouches further down in his seat at that. Andrew wonders why he keeps his unpopular act up even around his friends.

“Why don’t you want one, Neil?”

“I already see enough of you idiots at school. Don’t need that messing with my home life, too. ‘Sides, my mom doesn’t want me to get one.”

They laugh at that, and somebody jokingly says, “What a momma’s boy.”

Neil shrugs.

“Doe, what did you think about our third goal on Tuesday?” Tekien asks then, diverting Andrew’s attention.

“It went in the net,” Andrew says flatly. Sam cackles at that as Tekien rolls his eyes.

“Be like that, hoard your Exy knowledge. Just remember not all of us are getting recruited by the Ravens, though.”

Andrew shrugs and starts in on his lunch, ignoring the next table over and instead letting Tekien and Sam’s chatter wash over him.

* * *

Neil doesn’t know how Todd found out it was his lunch period, but he’s not thrilled at this development. Sitting on his stoop is weirdly peaceful. Getting ribbed by the CC team is not, especially when they want him to be a normal teenager.

“Oi, Josten, where do you think you’re going?” Todd yells out on Friday, when Neil tries to steer away from the cafeteria and head back to his stoop. He rejoins the CC table resignedly, where Diego offers him a fist bump and Phil gives him a ‘sup nod. God, why is everyone around him such a bro?

“So, Josten, you’re not hooking up with Katherine, are you?” Diego asks immediately.

Neil takes a measured bite of his protein bar and unsuccessfully tries to place the name. “Who’s Katherine?”

Phil laughs and Diego shakes his head. “I think she’s in your Spanish class.”

Neil pictures the blonde girl who tries to talk to him every fucking day. “Oh, Blondie?”

Phil continues chuckling. Diego puts his face in his hands. “Jesus Christ, Neil.”

“I think you can safely take that as a no, Diego,” Todd offers with a smirk. “Then again, maybe Josten is hooking up with her and doesn’t even know her name.”

Neil represses the full body shiver that threatens to break out at the memories of kissing girls in back allies and what followed. He takes another steady bite of his bar and lets them think what they will.

He looks around the cafeteria and catches Andrew’s eye. The other teen stares expressionlessly at him. Neil frowns and wonders if he should’ve left after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg! another update! go team! hope you like it :) i love hearing what you guys think so please hmu in the comments/on tumblr at exysexual :) <3


	6. vi.

That weekend, Andrew realizes that he might actually be able to attend college.

Cathleen greets him when he comes down to the kitchen late on Saturday, a bright smile already in place as she starts making him some pancakes. Andrew takes a seat at the table, watching her whisk and wondering what she would do if she found out he was gay.

“Cathleen,” he says after a long moment, as she generously distributes some chocolate chips in the batter. “Where do you think I should go to college?”

Cathleen purses her lips and pours some batter into the pan. A long moment later, she turns towards him with an unusually serious expression.

“Where do you have offers right now?”

Andrew picks at the paper napkin on the table in front of him. “Berkeley, Edgar Allen, Penn State, and UC Davis have all said that their admissions offices gave them the go ahead to recruit. And all of them would be pretty big scholarships.”

Cathleen flips the pancakes. The quiet sizzle on the stove is the only sound in the kitchen. Andrew collects the napkin scraps into a small mountain.

“They’re all good schools,” she says finally. “And you’d be able to afford any of them. You know Steve and I will help pay for your books and housing if it’s not covered.” Andrew stares at her in disbelief. “Edgar Allen and Penn are obviously better for Exy. Berkeley and UC Davis are closer to here. I guess it comes down to what you’d like to do after school. Do you want to pursue Exy or something else?”

She collects the first batch of pancakes on a plate and brings it over to the table as Andrew tries to process everything she just said. After a few bites, he finally collects himself enough to respond.

“I don’t know what I want.” He stuffs another bite into his mouth and directs his gaze away from the stove.

“Hey,” Cathleen murmurs softly, walking back over and gently squeezing his shoulder. Andrew consciously doesn’t tense up under her hand. “You’re only 17. You don’t have to know yet.”

They spend the rest of breakfast in a pensive silence, as Andrew wonders how long this kind of life can possibly go on before the other shoe drops.

* * *

The track season starts up in earnest, and Neil is happy for the distraction. The team is pretty close, and continue to expect more from him than he really understands. He finds himself going over to Diego’s house for a “pasta party” the day before their first meet under duress.

“Josten! You made it!” Todd yells when Neil shuffles into the room where everybody is seated, most distributed on a giant couch with a few left to sit on the ground.

“You assholes wouldn’t shut up about it,” he replies, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t aware I actually had a choice.”

“You always have a choice in this life,” Phil announces solemnly. “Gotta exercise your radical freedom, bro.”

“God, Phil, just because you’re going to be a douchey philosophy major in college doesn’t mean you have to inflict it on the rest of us now,” Connor groans, hitting Phil on the shoulder. "Save that shit for the coeds next year."

The rest of the evening passes in a similar state of teenage boy stupidity. Neil is at least happy about the massive quantity of pasta provided, and tries not to be obvious about the last time it was that he ate that much food.

He doesn’t pay a massive attention to the dumb gossip and school stuff they talk about, the upperclassmen imparting wisdom to the freshmen mixed in with obviously made-up shit. Given the separate school buildings for under- and upperclassmen, he doesn’t know the sophomores or freshmen very well, but they seem even more boring than the guys he spends time with.

Diego’s mom turns up just as the pasta runs out, and Connor stops his story about the BJ Lily Ruiz gave him at a party the weekend before midsentence.

“Hola, mama,” Diego greets, padding over to her and conversing in muttered, rapid Spanish for a minute. Neil watches silently, repressing the harsh memories of his own mother that threaten to wash over him.

“Thanks for having us over, Mrs. Garcia!” Todd grins when the pair separate. Mrs. Garcia offers him a soft smile in return.

“You know you’re always welcome here, Todd Jiang.” Her eyes flicker over the assembled boys, pausing briefly on Neil. “You all are.”

Neil looks down at the bowl in his lap and bites his lip. It’s too cozy in the small home, with its pictures on the wall and mismatched cutlery, for him to relax.

“And Diego, remember that we’re going to the church Saturday afternoon to help prepare lunches for the homeless,” Mrs. Garcia says before offering another smile for the group and friendly wave.

“Bye, Mrs. Garcia,” Todd calls after her, and Diego punches his arm as he settles back into his seat.

“Dude, stop trying to flirt with my mom.”

Todd rolls his eyes. “I’m not flirting, dumbass. It’s called _manners_.”

“Pretty sure you’re flirting,” Connor chimes in, kicking his legs up and resting them on one of the freshman’s heads. The kid freezes, obviously not sure what to do, and Connor snickers.

“Fuck off,” Todd grouses.

“Ah man, if you’re busy Saturday afternoon, you can’t make our Mario Kart tournament,” Phil realizes with a frown. Diego deflates a bit.

“Ugh, I didn’t even realize that,” he groans. “Instead, I’ll be making 120 PB&J sandwiches with Andrew fucking Doe.”

Neil tries not to visibly tense up at the name.

“What?” Phil asks.

“His foster parents are, like, super religious,” Diego shrugs. “He’s around a bunch.”

“That’s so weird.” Phil looks like he can’t wrap his head around it.

“Why?” Neil wonders aloud before he can stop himself.

“You weren’t there when he transferred last year,” Todd says. “It was so fucking weird, dude. Like, he wouldn’t talk to anybody, and he threatened this one guy who started talking to him in the locker room, and he always wears those armbands? I guess he’s mellowed a bit since then, but he only ever talks to the Exy team, and it never seems like he actually, like, _enjoys_ anything. Plus, he’s, like, super fucking talented, isn’t he? But it seems like he doesn’t give a shit.”

“Jesus, this team needs to start fining the use of the word ‘like,’” Phil complains. “We could buy new sweatshirts after two weeks between Jiang and Mehta.”

Connor and Todd protest simultaneously, and the conversation derails further from there.

When Neil finally excuses himself a while later, pretending that he’d promised his mom to not be home too late, he’s still turning over the new information he has of Andrew Doe.

For the first time, he thinks about how Andrew had dealt with his panic attack, the quiet capability of his words and mannerisms, and wonders where he learnt to do that. For some reason, he hopes that it’s not from firsthand experience.

Foster parents. It made sense, with the “Doe” and everything, but it’s a bit surprising that it’s never come up before.

Neil tries to imagine life moving from home to home without any constants to rely on. Even on the run, he’d always had his mother beside him and the understanding that she would protect him with her dying breath.

Maybe that’s why Oakland has been so hard on him, Neil muses as he walks up to his makeshift home. He’s lost the only thing he thought he could depend on, nevermind all the ways he’d gone back on his promises to her in the past eight months.

Regardless, he continues wondering what it’s like to be Andrew Doe as he gets ready for bed and stares up at the ceiling. Has he forgotten how odd Neil is already, with college on the horizon and an Exy racket in hand? Has he accepted that Neil is just another stressed high school student?

Neil tells himself that he hopes so.

* * *

Andrew is still turning all his newfound college options over in his head a few days later. He spends Stats actually paying attention because he’s sick of trying to imagine himself at Penn Sate or UC Davis or Berkeley.

The problem is that he has no experience making real choices for himself, has no idea how to deal with pros and cons and decisions. He can’t remember wanting anything for himself besides staying away from the Spears. He knows that he must have wanted things once, when he was just a kid and didn’t realize all the ways the world could fuck you over.

Something in his gut recoils at the thought of Edgar Allen or Penn State, playing Exy all day and talking about Exy all night and being nationally known for Exy. He barely cares about Exy, and making it the center of his world seems like it could drive him a bit crazy.

But if he doesn’t center himself around Exy, what else is there? What the fuck is he supposed to do with a life he never imagined himself actually having?

The idea that the Jamesons aren’t going to kick him out on his birthday, that they’re going to continue supporting him in college– Andrew has dealt time and time again with others disappointing the unrealistic expectations he has of them, but he hasn’t been on this end of hopes in a long while.

He remembers how Cass used to smile at him, the way she helped him with homework–

Better to focus on the future, ambiguous though it may be.

He wanders out to the Math Stoop during lunch that day, desperate for a cigarette and an escape from Tekien’s aggressive Exy talk for a little while.

He’s sitting there, staring blankly at the cracked concrete beneath his feet, when the door opens and a hesitant Neil Josten joins him. He takes another drag and remains staring straight ahead as Neil sits down next to him.

“Uh, hey, Andrew,” he says after a minute. Andrew nods in reply and refuses to look over at the other kid. “I was actually hoping to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

Andrew flicks him a considering look and cocks his head curiously. He refuses to get his hopes up.

“The other day in the library, you said a bunch of stuff that kinda helped me after my panic attack,” Neil continues, picking at one of the holes in his jeans and avoiding eye contact. “I was just wondering if you had any advice if it happens again.”

Andrew looks back at the concrete and breathes in the familiar rush of nicotine. “It’s all about grounding techniques and finding something that works for you.” He looks back at Neil, who’s staring straight back. His dull brown eyes remain incongruous with the rest of his face. “But usually it’s somebody or something that’s exterior to you that breaks through. You can’t necessarily do anything to stop it yourself.”

Neil frowns and nods thoughtfully. “Okay, thanks.”

“No problem.” Andrew flicks some ash away and watches it drift to the ground. 

“How’s the college stuff going, then?”

Andrew looks back to Neil and wonders what his angle is. The other boy has produced a protein bar from his duffle bag and is munching on it, gaze somewhere above the gym building.

“Fine.” Andrew takes another drag.

“What’s your top choice?”

Andrew casts another scrutinizing look at Neil, but he still looks like he doesn’t actually care. It’s the most Andrew’s ever heard him initiate conversation, though, so he decides to roll with it.

“Not sure,” Andrew answers truthfully. “I’m not that into Edgar Allen, but everybody acts like that’s sacrilegious.”

Neil tenses up minutely. “They’re ranked number one, right?”

“Yeah.” Andrew drops the remnants of his cigarette to the ground and watches it smolder. “But there’s more to life than Exy.” Well, he imagines there must be, even if he can't nail down what that really means. Neil remains silent. “Have you ever played?”

The other boy takes another bite of his bar and Andrew watches out of the corner of his eye as he swallows slowly.

“Nah, I’ve never been that interested in it,” Neil responds. Andrew hears a small tremor to his voice, though, and wonders why Neil could possibly be lying about something like that.

They spend the rest of the period in silence, but it’s not unpleasant. Andrew has almost relaxed by the end of it.

* * *

Mac pulls him aside during practice and tells him that there’s a call for him in the office. Not sure what to expect, Andrew wanders into the vaguely familiar room and drops into the rolling chair before picking up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Is this Andrew Doe?”

“Yep.”

Some of Cathleen’s tips about professionalism have yet to really resonate.

“This is David Wymack, coach of the Palmetto State Foxes in South Carolina.” Andrew resists snorting. The Foxes are notoriously shitty. “It’s probably a long shot, but I just thought we could throw our hat into the ring. You might not know much about our team– “

“Just that it’s always dead last in the division and takes on more charity cases than my church.”

Wymack sighs. “We’re an up and coming program. We’ve got some real talent in some of the newer members, and you’d be a great addition to the team. And if you accept, we’d offer a full ride, room and board included, not to mention some money for travel. And as a team, we work hard, but there’s still room for academics here. It’s not just about Exy.”

Andrew twists the phone cord around his finger and remains silent.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Just know that we’d do more to support you once you’re here than most schools, and that we genuinely care about the mental health of our players. We’re willing to negotiate additional terms if you need them.”

“Thanks for the call,” Andrew says, trying to remain impassive and remember at least a little of what Cathleen had told him.

“Let us know by May 1st,” Wymack tells him. “We’ll fax over a sample contract so you can take a look, but know that we’re flexible about it. I really think the Foxes could be the team for you, Doe. Being a Fox is more than being a reject or an Exy player. It’s a second chance.”

“I’ll let you know if I need one.”

Andrew hangs up the phone and stares at it for a moment longer before heading back out to the court and ignoring Mac’s questions. 

God dammit, like he needed more fucking things to think about.

He throws himself into practice like he cares about it and not just forgetting everything else. Cheng gives him a high five at the end of it. 

Cathleen listens attentively when he tells her about the phone call later. Steve smiles and congratulates him. Neither tells him what to do. He can’t decide if he’s grateful that they trust him, or wishes that they would just decide for him.

He traces the scars on his wrist that night as he tries to fall asleep, and wonders how he’s supposed to create meaning for himself, how he’s supposed to know magically what’s right for him. He falls asleep without finding any answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. please tell me if i'm totally wrong about panic attack stuff? i've researched before but don't really know (but also it's different for everybody) 
> 
> 2\. thank you guys so much for how kind and supportive you've been!! i can't tell you how much it means and how much it helps me keep writing :) 
> 
> 3\. no promises on when i'll update next, esp because i'm going to be traveling over spring break, but hopefully my muse remains kind :) 
> 
> 4\. feel free to ask about this story/send in prompts/chat with me/anything over on tumblr at exysexual! i'm thinking about posting some things about writing this story so if that's of interest at all check back in soon...also listen to me complain about my muse/post about updates (my tumblr is reaaaaal boring that's why i'm trying to pimp myself out haha) 
> 
> 5\. can you guys tell how much fun i'm having writing about neil being in normal teenage boy situations because it's possibly the most fun thing ever (but also all cross country teams i've ever encountered have been like super cultish and close it's such a thing??)
> 
> 6\. hope you're having a great day/night! thanks for reading and sorry about how long this note is haha <3


	7. vii.

Andrew’s weekend had been long and annoying. He’s no closer to a real decision besides having officially rejected the Ravens.

He’d talked to Cathleen some more, sat down and tried to figure out if there are any majors or careers that interest him. It’d been hard and frustrating. Cathleen kept asking him questions and not accepting his attempts to turn it on her, waiting him out instead. 

They’d landed on the fact that maybe, just maybe, he wanted to be a lawyer or something else that works with the law and police and helps kids out. 

“You’re just seventeen, though,” Cathleen repeated at the end of the conversation, rubbing his shoulder in a gentle, maternal way that he struggled to accept. “You shouldn’t have to have your whole life figured out already.”

He overheard Cathleen and Steve talking in the kitchen that night, stopping in the living room to listen in.

“He’s a good kid, he really is,” Cathleen was saying, her tone full of sadness, “but it’s heartbreaking to see how little he believes in himself. He really has no concept of the future, what he might want to do.”

“Thank God he has ended up in this house,” Steve replied, “with us to help him. You’re doing a wonderful job with him, sweetie. I know we can help him find the path God has laid for him, a path to happiness and fulfillment.”

Andrew broke in then, strolling casually into the kitchen to fetch the snack he’d originally set out for. The two smiled at him, asked a polite question about his homework.

He stared at his ceiling again that night, wondering what he had done to make Cathleen believe that he’s a good person. Wondering what she would say if she learned that he was gay.

* * *

It turns out that Neil has the potential to be a track star. He wins a few events at the first indoor meets of the season, and it makes him even more engrained in the group of boys who have forced themselves onto him. 

Not only has he been back to Diego’s house, but he has also been to Phil’s, Connor’s, and Todd’s, met their families and seen some embarrassing childhood photos and even played Mario Kart, inconceivable though that once seemed to him. It all happened so quickly that he didn’t really notice until it was too late. The track season had barely started, but he was already hanging out after practice multiple times a week with the guys.

His barriers remain up, he thinks. He may spend more time with them, but it’s time spent shooting the shit, never talking about anything real. They’ve started badgering him more about the little things– never meeting his parents, his lack of a cell phone, his complete avoidance of social media (seriously, Jiang, he has no use for Snapchat).

He likes it, though, the thought that there are people who would miss him if he disappeared. _When_ he disappears.

The joy he has started finding in the little things– in beating Connor out at practice, in finishing 8th rather than 12th in Mario Kart, in rolling his eyes at Todd when he sees him between classes– scares him. He thinks he might be a little bit addicted to it, this emotion that’s not just anxiety and weariness.

It makes him wonder what he thinks he’s living for in the first place, why he has always valued his survival so highly. What kind of life is one on the run, with a different bed each night and nothing to ever look forward to?

He knows his mother would hit him if she heard such blasphemy. He also knows it’s slowly worming its way into his heart.

* * *

They meet again in the library later in the month, as February begins bleeding into March. They’ve kept to the schedule well, have all their data collected, and are starting to analyze it. Soon they’ll be able to just divide up the work and cease meeting all together, most likely.

It’s dark by the time they get outside. They met later than usual, with both of them coming from practice. Andrew had definitely not noticed the way Neil’s hair curled around his ears when it was still wet from his shower, or smelled the faint scent of soap that clung to his skin.

“How’s track going?” Andrew asks as the doors to the school shut behind them. Neil has started turning away already, his posture hunched in as usual, but Andrew can’t help himself. He wants to hear Neil’s account of the success Andrew has heard about from the morning announcements.

Neil hasn’t let anything slip since their lunch break on the stoop, but they haven’t spent much time together. They’ve both been in the cafeteria most days (not that Andrew is keeping tabs on him or anything) and Stats hasn’t come up.

“It’s alright.” Neil shoves his hands into his pockets, his body still angled like he’d rather be gone already.

Andrew opens his mouth to respond– with what he’s not yet sure– when a familiar minivan pulls up in front of the pair and he shuts his mouth with dread. No no no–

“Andrew!” Cathleen grins at him as the window lowers, unaware of the embarrassment she’s causing. “Thought I’d swing by on the way back from the store, see if you’re still at school.”

“Thanks, Cathleen,” Andrew manages to smile. Neil has stepped away, looks ready to run, but Andrew knows there’s no chance of that now that Cathleen has set eyes on him.

“Who’s your friend?” Cathleen’s question is accompanied by her typically charming smile, something that doesn’t seem to calm Neil in the least.

“Oh, this is Neil,” Andrew tries to sound careless. “He’s my partner on the Stats project I’ve mentioned.”

“The famous Stats project!” Cathleen grins. “Running with and without music, right? Sounds fun.”

“It’s not bad,” Neil allows. Cathleen’s grin upgrades to a full-on beam.

“Anyway, we better get home for dinner,” Cathleen says, reaching across the console to open the door for Andrew. Andrew begins relaxing, believing the worst of it to be over– “Neil, would you like to join us?”

“Oh, my mom’s expecting me home,” Neil hedges, clutching his duffel tightly to his side.

“You can give her a call, tell her where you are!” 

“Neil doesn’t have a cell phone,” Andrew interjects, offering Neil an apologetic grimace. The other teen twitches his mouth in what could be solidarity or just a random facial tic.

“He can use mine! Or the landline at home!”

Andrew could die. He could melt of sheer embarrassment, right here on the pavement outside the school. What is Cathleen playing at?

Neil shuffles around for a minute before clearly resigning himself to his fate.

“Thanks for the invitation,” he says in a neutral tone, sliding the back door open and climbing into the back. Andrew settles into the passenger seat, his whole body tense. This is clearly a recipe for disaster.

* * *

Neil has no idea how he ended up here, but it’s not actually as terrible as it could be. The Jamesons have a beautiful home, and he’s able to get Cathleen to tell him all about the many renovations they’ve done, which buys him up until they’re actually sitting to eat.

Her husband is just as eerily put together as she is, with a receding hairline but kind eyes and a soft smile. Neil is feeling more wholesome just for having entered the house, honestly, but that puts him on edge as much as anything else.

Mr. Jameson leads them in grace, not a ritual that Neil has ever practiced before, but he just copies Andrew and nobody comments. The food before them is immaculate, a spread of green beans and ham and garlic bread. He feels like he’s somehow fell into a model household from the 50s, Andrew the only other outlier in the picture.

“So Neil, tell us a bit about yourself,” Cathleen suggests as she distributes the ham with a practiced hand. 

Across the table, Andrew looks like he’s undergoing a particularly gruesome torture, which Neil doesn’t exactly understand. It’s clear from the behavior of the Jamesons that they’re very close, that Andrew actually fits into this picture of domestic bliss easily, and that Neil is somehow invading or disrupting it. Given the complete lack of insight Neil has to the inner workings of Andrew, he has no idea how to interpret any of his behaviors.

“Um,” Neil stalls, trying to think through what’s acceptable to say and what he should keep to himself. He thinks back on what he’s told other parents, what he’s told Andrew. “I’m a senior at Palmetto, with Andrew. We’re working on a Stats project together.” 

He wants to stop there, but both of the adults are smiling encouragingly at him so he pushes bravely on.

“I run track and cross country?” He’s not sure why it comes out as a question.

“Neil’s really good at track,” Andrew offers unexpectedly, looking at his parents. “He’s been winning races and stuff this season.”

Neil frowns at Andrew, wondering how he knows that, but he doesn’t have time to really contemplate it before Mr. Jameson draws him into a lengthy conversation about the differences between track and cross country, the teams and coaches at Palmetto, and his events.

“Oh Neil!” Cathleen exclaims suddenly, saving Neil from explaining more about his cross-training strategies. “You never called your mom to tell her where you are.”

Neil has planned for this. On the ride over, as Cathleen and Andrew went over Andrew’s day in surprising detail, he had begun panicking about his options. No way would this lady let him walk home alone, and no way would she let him off the hook on calling his mom. The answer that arose in his mind was using a track friend who wouldn’t question it too much. There was even a strategic friend who would probably deflect Cathleen’s attention.

“Thanks for remembering,” he says, standing up. “Can I borrow your landline?”

She leaves him with the phone in the kitchen, and he wanders as far away from the dining room as he can while he dials Diego’s number. (He tries to ignore the fact that he’s now memorized the numbers of several friends.)

“Hello?” Diego’s confusion is palpable. Neil suspects none of his friends would’ve answered a call from an unrecognized number before he stumbled into their lives. He tries not to dwell on the thought.

“Hey, it’s Neil.”

“Oh, ‘sup dude?” Diego sounds instantly chill again.

“Do you think I could come over in a little while? Hang out for like half an hour or something?”

If Diego is surprised at the odd request, it doesn’t register in his tone. “Sure thing! Mama will be psyched, she loves you.”

Neil chuckles and feels his anxiety level fall. “Thanks, see you soon-ish. I’ll explain then.”

They hang up and Neil takes a deep breath. This is getting riskier and riskier by the day, as more and more people are drawn in.

* * *

Cathleen and Steve clearly love Neil. Andrew is pretty impressed at how polite Neil is being to them, given how quiet and withdrawn he seems at school, but he supposes he’s in no place to judge on that front.

Neil reenters the dining room with an easier smile than he usually wears in school.

“Thanks for letting me use the phone,” he says to Cathleen as he sits back down. “I’d forgotten that I told her I’d be going to a friend’s after school, so she wasn’t even worried about it. Then I had to call that friend and explain, but it was no problem.”

Cathleen is relieved not to be stressing another parent out. “Which friend?”

“Diego Garcia.” Neil glances at Andrew and turns back to Cathleen. “I know him from track, but I think you know him and his family from church?”

Cathleen is delighted that Neil is friends with Diego, and launches into a lengthy explanation of her involvement with the church, Mrs. Garcia’s involvement, and what a wonderful student Diego is.

Andrew watches Neil throughout, as he is wont to do, and is fascinated by the quantity of food Neil has managed to consume without drawing any attention to it. Neil eats efficiently, quietly, and seems almost entirely focused on his food.

Slowly the meal dwindles to a close, and Andrew can sense Neil’s desire to leave.

“Andrew, do you want to drive Neil home?” Cathleen suggests as she stands to clear the table.

Andrew glances at Neil, who doesn’t react to the suggestion. 

“Sure.” She hands him the keys to the minivan and they feel heavy in his hand.

“Thanks for dinner,” Neil says politely as he and Andrew rise. “It was delicious.”

“Thank you for coming, dear,” Cathleen returns, the beam returning. “It’s always nice to meet Andrew’s friends, especially when they are as polite as yourself. I hope we can see you again, maybe in the stands at one of Andrew’s games?”

“Oh, I’m not that into Exy,” Neil shrugs. Cathleen’s smile dims slightly. “But, um, Andrew’s really good, so that’s cool to see.”

“There are always scouts in the crowd these days,” Steve asserts with a proud look to Andrew, who wants to disappear into the ground.

“I guess I can stop by sometime,” Neil offers tentatively, bringing a hand up to rub at his neck. “But the games usually overlap with my practices and stuff.”

Cathleen and Steve accept that evasion, wish him a pleasant night, and finally allow Andrew to exit this nightmare with his dignity only partially damaged.

“I’m sorry about that,” Andrew mutters as they climb into the minivan.

“They’re nice,” Neil replied, gaze fixed firmly out the window.

“They just like harassing other people for information about me, I guess,” Andrew continues. “Where do you live?”

“I’m going to Diego’s,” Neil reminds him, giving the address. Andrew holds his tongue, wishing he would stop embarrassing himself further.

The rest of the drive is silent. Andrew has a hundred questions he’d like to ask (what did Neil think of Cathleen and Steve? Why was he going to Diego’s at 9pm on a school night? What were his parents like? Why was he so weird about Exy? Would he really go to a game?) but he knows that he would regret opening his mouth again.

Thankfully, they arrive before the silence is too excruciating. For the first time since they got into the car, Neil turns to him and not the window.

“Are there really scouts at every game?” Neil asks. Andrew can’t begin to fathom why that’s what Neil is focusing on, but he isn’t going to look a conversation horse in the mouth.

“No, Steve was exaggerating.” Andrew looks down at his hands, which are clenched tightly to the steering wheel. He tries to relax them. “I mostly have my offers and I just have to figure out which one I’ll accept.”

“What’re you leaning?” The tone, once again, is almost perfectly neutral, and Andrew has no way of deciphering its motive.

“Not sure.” Andrew drops his hands from the wheel and looks back at Neil, who’s studying him. “I’ve rejected the Ravens, but otherwise it’s a tossup.”

Neil nods and looks at him for a longer moment before smiling. Andrew feels the air leave his lungs.

“Thanks for dinner and the ride and everything. Your family is nice. I hope you appreciate it.”

With that cryptic remark, he leaves the car and Andrew staring after him. He slings his duffel over his shoulder and saunters up to the door, knocking and waiting like he does it every day. Diego’s mother answers the door, pulls Neil into a hug, and they disappear into the house, leaving Andrew outside with more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um merry christmas?? i'm so so sorry about the enormous delay in posting this, i've had block like nobody's business (also so much stuff going on in real life– since publishing the last chapter i've worked at a wilderness expedition program that had no electronics for 10 weeks, gotten a job for post-grad, written most of my senior thesis, and completed my first semester of senior year!!! yikes!!) i make no promises about when i'll update next, but this story is not abandoned! it's still kicking around in my brain, trying to figure out how it's going to finish itself up. sorry if this chapter was trash, i really just need to get something out there, and hopefully it was heartwarming enough for christmas? thanks to everybody who has commented, you guys encourage and inspire me so much <3 i love hearing what you guys think of everything and i can't tell you how much it helps me continue writing <3 as always hmu at exysexual on tumblr!!! love you all and hope you're having a great day <3


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